


Sick Day

by Kalin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Kissing, M/M, Pack Feels, Peter is annoying, Queen Lydia, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 02:39:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5147231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalin/pseuds/Kalin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What’s up, dude? You look like crap,” Stiles commented, ignoring Derek’s abundance of shirtlessness. Derek raised a judgmental eyebrow, and Stiles returned it. “Well?”</p><p>“I’m sick, moron.”</p><p> </p><p>Or the one where Derek is sick. Stiles makes fun of him for being sick, so Derek makes sure Stiles gets sick too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Day

Despite what everyone may think, werewolves do actually get sick.  Derek gave Mrs. McCall a heads up when she had come to him asking questions. Luckily, the younger wolves haven’t got sick at all, saving Derek from answering a barrage of questions from his hyperactive pack of teenagers.  Unfortunately, Derek himself was sick with strep throat. It wasn’t anything serious. It was more of a pain than anything else. It just made Derek a little more easily agitated than normal. Derek thanked his lucky stars that the majority of his pack was occupied with finals, and therefore leaving Derek to get better on his own. Unfortunately, Peter wasn’t a teenager with finals.

“Oh, my poor nephew.” Peter cooed, strolling into the loft like he owned it. Derek bared his teeth at his deranged uncle, but didn’t take his eyes off of the flat screen TV showing reruns of Friends.

“Get out,” Derek said simply. He didn’t have the patience to keep up with social niceties with Peter, and he didn’t care to.

“That’s not anyway to treat your beloved uncle,” Peter said offhandedly, not particularly offended by his nephew’s cold shoulder.

Derek was resting on his large, black futon in the living area in gray sweatpants and without a shirt. Summer was upon Beacon Hills, so Derek constantly left some of the windows open, letting a constant breeze blow through the loft. Derek had a fever so he welcomed the breeze that kept him comfortable.

What kept Derek on edge was Peter thumbing through old books from the Hale library.

“What are you doing?” Derek gritted out, voice hoarse from misuse and being swollen. Derek hated being sick.

“Lydia requested I do some research to help with honing her banshee powers,” Peter chirped, not looking up, and tone hinting that he wasn’t all that pleased with being tasked with his job. But, knowing Lydia, it’s entirely possible that Peter didn’t have a choice. Lydia could be very manipulative when she wanted to be.

Derek rolled his eyes, grunted disapprovingly, and continued his marathon of Friends reruns. He just had to wait it out.

…

Peter left an hour or two after he first arrived. Finally leaving Derek to actually rest. Well, Derek would be resting, except for Stiles finished finals early. Stiles bounded in without knocking or having any manners whatsoever. He stopped mid-bound seeing Derek glare at him and looking, well, sick. And shirtless. Very shirtless, much shirtless.

“What’s up, dude? You look like crap,” Stiles commented, ignoring Derek’s abundance of shirtlessness. Derek raised a judgmental eyebrow, and Stiles returned it. “Well?”

“I’m sick, moron.”

“I thought you said werewolves didn’t get sick,” Stiles said, standing smack dab in front of Derek’s view of the TV.

“I never said that,” Derek replied, motioning with the remote for Stiles to get out of the way. Stiles stayed put, arms flailing in disbelief.

“Dude,” he looked way too happy that Derek was sick, “Did the big bad werewolf-y get the sickies?” Stiles was freaking cooing at Derek. Derek growled menacingly. Or as menacingly as he could muster with strep throat.  

“Aw! Da poor Sourwolf-y!” Stiles cooed, reaching to pat Derek on the head. Derek snapped his teeth at the offending hand.

“Stiles, if you don’t stop, I’m going to make you sick too,” Derek threatened, baring his teeth as Stiles twitched to pat him on the head again.

“Oh yeah, Scarywolf? I dare you.” Stiles yelped as Derek stuck out and grabbed his arm, pulling Stiles on top of him. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles chest, pinning Stiles arms, as well as pinning him to his chest.

“You dare me?” Derek’s hoarse voice intoned a challenge. And maybe it was because Stiles was pinned to a sexy shirtless werewolf that his brain wasn’t working as well as it should have been, but Stiles leaned in closer to Derek.

Stiles warm breath hit Derek’s face as Stiles whiskey eyes held his gaze with Derek’s blue-green-hazel eyes. “I dare you.”

Derek kissed Stiles, and Stiles gasped, opening his mouth in surprise. Derek took the opportunity to explore Stiles’s mouth, running his hands up and down Stiles’s arms. Derek broke the kiss, smiling knowingly.

“You are so going to get sick now.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Sourwolf.”

…

A week later, Stiles was sick in the loft, the pack worrying over him like he was going to die. Derek stood in the background, smirking.

“What’s so funny?” Stiles smiled knowingly.

“My boyfriend is an idiot,” Derek replied, pecking Stiles on the lips.

The room exploded. So much for avoiding a barrage of questions from his hyperactive pack of teenagers.


End file.
